The Unhappy Maiden
by Spade Chao
Summary: A little story I thought of while looking at my favourite card, 'The Unhappy Maiden'.


Hunger pangs wracked my body for the number of times; I've lost track of how many occurrences of these have pervaded my thoughts. I'm now in the only place where I can find warmth in this accursed city; sitting on the roof of what used to be my home, my back pressed to the thin chimney. The smell of burning oak and incense, the family's favorite combination for heat and aroma, wafts down every so often, and I feel like I'm going to choke in the cloud of thick, black smoke, although I love when this happens, as I remember a year ago, when I was a member of this family. Near Christmas, we always made cinnamon buns, it was a family endeavor, my mother would get the kitchen ready, my brother would set down the waxed paper to protect everything from the flour that would inevitably be strewn about, my father would get all the ingredients; said flour, sugar, milk, water, cinnamon, and various other things. Although they would all get caught up in the making of these treats, and it seemed like I was forgotten, I would always get the first bun. Knowing how much love went into these seemed to make them taste extra special... and then Christmas day. We were always short on money, so our gnarled pine tree stood in the living room, some of the needles falling onto the floor when the monorail would pass by our house... we were actually quite close to the tracks. At least 3 times, I almost got crushed by the large train zipping by... that was while I lived here. Since I've been expelled from the family, it's happened many, many times... the ornaments hanging off of the branches always shook when the needles would fall, and sometimes they'd fall off; I stole some used carpet before to put under the tree to keep them from breaking. We exchanged gifts, as meager as they were, and we would gather around the fireplace. Back then, we only had pine to burn; it was common and cheap. I was in my room, thinking about how Christmas was always a letdown, and I closed my eyes... I felt my hands move, almost like they had a mind of their own, and when I opened my eyes, there were roses growing out of the holes in my bedposts; the old wood was beginning to decay, so there was soil. I was so happy, I'd be able to give my parents something good this year! So I ran downstairs, and held out the flowers, a large grin painting my face. My mother looked at them, as did my father. He grabbed the flowers from my hands, and threw them in the fire. Then he growled something about money being wasted on weeds, when it could have been used for the family, but I didn't really hear him. I felt an uncontrollable anger, and waved my hands, as large black roses wound their way around his body from his feet to his head... he screamed at the feeling of hundreds of thorns ripping at his flesh, and mom smacked me. I was expecting it, so I defended myself, and she recoiled in pain. I ran from the house before my brother could attack me with a makeshift sword he had created by stealing metal from different places...  
  
Another cloud of smoke. After I left, the family had won the lottery, so they had a new house constructed in the same place as the other one. This house was nice, made of brick, with a good support so the floor didn't quake when a train went past... not that any trains went past anyways, the monorail had been closed some time ago. I've lived here for 364 days; it's Christmas Eve. The incense in their fireplace makes a really nice smell, and it calms me. I wave my hands over a basket I made from some reeds where I always got water, and smiled as it filled with pink blossoms. I place my right hand on my right knee; I can feel the bones protruding, and I would feel sick, but I've become used to feeling those lumps. They're something I can count on, they're always there. I throw my left arm to the roof with anger, as I think of how sad and weak I'm being. I've survived a year on the streets, I can go longer, and I've been strong. I sigh and bow my head, looking into my little basket, my read hair falling to the side, and I feel tears welling up in my eyes. Suddenly, there's a flash of light, and everything goes black... I feel like I'm being torn apart! I try to scream, but nothing happens. Suddenly, everything goes white, and I know, somehow, that I will no longer have to worry about staying warm, or eating, or anything like that. I hear some words echo around me, and I'm sealed... this must be what it's like to die... Those words echo again, clearer, louder than before.   
  
Mommy! Look! I got an Unhappy Maiden in my booster pack! 


End file.
